Redemption
by ParadoxicalOne
Summary: [Shoot] Killers were now saviors. Psychopaths were heroes. Thieves had become philanthropists. Socially awkward misfits, while still socially awkward, were surrounded by friends. Sociopaths found themselves not just having but embracing feelings.


_Disclaimer:_ Don't own it. Just taking the toys out of the box every now and then. No disrespect or infringement intended.

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 **A/N** – Can't stop writing. Not sure if that's good or bad. Hope you enjoy. If you feel so inclined, drop me a line to let me know what you think.

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Redemption

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"Root," Shaw queried quietly into the darkness of the car, "what are you smiling at?"

Root had this small, lopsided, comical grin on her face. It faded slightly with the question. "Nothing," she blandly replied.

The streetlights they were passing cast brief shadows on her companion's face, and for the briefest of moments, Shaw almost believed the smile had been in her mind. But she knew what she had seen. "I'm serious. We've got a long night ahead of us. You might as well get it off your chest now."

"No, really. It's nothing," Root answered again. Her voice was distant, almost unattached to her body. Her eyes had a faraway look in them as she stared out the passenger window.

Shaw sighed. "Okay. Cryptic it is." She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and resigned herself to another boring stakeout where she would find herself stuck inside her own head.

Breaking the silence, Root turned to look at her partner. "It might be something." The grin was increasing to an almost full-on smile. "It depends on your philosophical perspective."

Shaw wanted to slam on the brakes and swerve the SUV into a parking space. All she found herself doing, though, was rolling her eyes and working her jaw to stifle another sigh. She turned at the next intersection and mentally mapped the remaining distance to their destination. Root was forever confounding and confusing. Shaw chose not to take the bait.

Sensing she was going to need to carry the conversation as per usual, Root decided to continue. "Nothing is something. Because nothing isn't really nothing if it becomes something. It's something once you start to consider it. Considering it gives it substance. Substance makes it something."

Shaw began to curse herself for even asking in the first place. She had merely wanted to have some type of interaction, something to slice the quiet that had settled on them at the beginning of their journey across town, something to fill the many hours until the stakeout was over. She had no idea she was bargaining for what felt like something akin to a high school lecture on logical proofs. Ever equally annoyed and curious about the woman seated beside her, Shaw always found herself at odds with wanting to know more and believing that a mystery might be more intriguing.

As if Root could sense the internal debate, she reached out in the dark. One finger trailed down Shaw's leather-clad arm from shoulder to wrist. Receiving another eye roll in return, Root chuckled. "You know, Sameen, it wouldn't kill you to engage in some of my fantastical whims."

Shaw huffed in return. "No, see, Root … Now, _that_ is something that's dependent on a philosophical perspective."

Shaw received a cheeky grin in return. That little flirty smile was playing on Root's lips and dancing in her eyes. "Ah, yes. Some of those could be quite risky for you." She turned back to look out the window. "Romanticizing about the cosmos isn't one of them."

They arrived at their designated parking spot for the night. Shaw parked quickly and turned off the lights. The darkness that bathed them matched the silence. It was relaxed, easy. They had found themselves over time falling into a contented routine. There was banter, there was calm stillness, and there was always that underlying affection that neither had voiced in stone. She turned her body slightly towards Root and leaned her back against the door. Arms folded across her chest and a quizzical stare on her face, Shaw readied herself. The inevitable was … inevitable. Root was nowhere near finished.

It only took seconds. "It's comical." She turned her body to mirror Shaw, arms and all. "A ragtag bunch of misfits. A group of homicidal, at times suicidal, sociopathic, psychotic, socially awkward outcasts somehow band together to save the world. You'd think there would be a more fitting group of people to lead the charge."

"This is your _nothing_? Seriously?" Shaw found herself asking, incredulous.

Root mock-frowned in return. "No. Actually, I was thinking how we were each destined for our own versions of Hell. We were all living in our own nothings of existence until our paths were inexorably drawn together. All, each one of us solitary beings, are now sewn together into a tapestry of grand design." She searched Shaw's eyes, her own eyes dancing with some internal fire. "Out of nothing, we all became something."

Shaw squinted in the dark attempting to see Root a little clearer. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but there was a sparse amount of light. What little there was, was coming from behind Root, almost giving her an angelic glow and causing her to appear a silhouette. "You're equating us to phoenixes?"

Root loved the way Shaw always dissected what she was saying and placed her own illusionary spin on it. "I do enjoy the flair you add to my words." She smiled again. "But, no. We didn't rise out of ashes. We just rose. I'm certain not a one of us thought we deserved anything. The wrongs we've committed in our lives surely should've earned us an angry demise. Yet … yet, here we are."

Shaw nodded her agreement. "That angry demise is still waiting, Root. Don't you remember the bullets whizzing past your head yesterday? Don't you remember the story behind each one of your wounds and scars?" Her eyes are drawn briefly to Root's shoulder, the one she shot not too awfully long before. "We haven't escaped anything. I know how it'll end. It won't be pleasant … for any of us. There is no redemption for people like us."

"We've changed, Sam." If Shaw could see in the dark, Root's eyes took on a wistful appearance. "Maybe there isn't redemption in our deaths. Maybe there isn't redemption in the afterlife. But, there is definitely redemption in the time we have left here on Earth. Look where we are. Look at what we have."

"We're in a car … parked on the side of a road … watching an apartment building that houses someone who has no idea we exist, doesn't care, and probably wishes we'd go away. We skulk in the night, through the shadows, hiding in alleyways. And, we haven't changed. We still break the law. We still kill people. The only thing that changed is why we think we do it."

"It's a thankless job. That's what affords us a second chance," Root answered simply.

Shaw took a moment to let it all sink in. The briefest of seconds allowed realization to take hold. Killers were now saviors. Psychopaths were heroes. Thieves had become philanthropists. Socially awkward misfits, while still socially awkward, were surrounded by friends. Sociopaths found themselves not just having but embracing feelings.

Shaw's eyes, searching the darkness, found Root's. They danced to a rhythm only they understood, that maybe they would never really understand. Somehow, though, that was enough. Some things were felt and never able to be quantified. They may never know how or why they were given the chance to be different, but none of them could deny that they were there.

In the stillness, Shaw was certain Root would be able to hear her heartbeat. It was loud, ringing in her ears like the beat of a drum, rhythmically lulling her into a peaceful state. A realization long overdue that swept her off her feet as only a few things ever had. It was adrenaline, pure and simple. Adrenaline was her drug of choice. It always had been. It heightened her senses, made her feel alive. Paradoxically, this naturally-occurring stimulant, this fight or flight response, always had a calming influence on her. It was her one tether to the "normal" world. It was the time she was able to feel more than just a dull, almost imperceptible ache.

Over time, she had noticed it getting stronger. Well, not exactly. She had noticed something was changing, but she had never been able to put her finger exactly on the cause. The dull ache had become more of a throb at specific moments in her life. In all honesty, she had not noticed it until she noticed it. It was on retrospection that she realized how slowly her emotions had crept up on her. It was like waking up one days and realizing that she felt something, but she knew it never happened that way … for her or anyone else. So, she thought long and hard for weeks on end only to realize it had everything to do with the woman sitting across from her.

She knew she would never be society's version of normal, and she was okay with that. Shaw knew that none of them would ever reach the world's definition of normalcy. The normal for them, their little ragtag group of misfits, was the only normal she ever wanted. So, she embraced her body's response to stress – which she realized was just her adaption of life. She still encountered massive amounts of adrenaline when the bullets were zipping past, but this was something strangely similar and different at the same time. She accepted and welcomed it. If this is what feelings were, she would choose to enjoy them.

Root applauded the luxury of the vehicle she had encouraged Shaw to _borrow_ for the evening. The BMW x5 they found themselves in was the top of the line, newest, latest, and greatest on the market. It had a spacious interior with ample room for a plethora of activities, leather-clad everything adding to the soft, sexy feel, a navigation and camera system to nearly rival The Machine, a good-sized cargo area to store necessary gear, and a high-performance engine, chassis, and powertrain she was certain Shaw would put to the test later that evening on the way back to the subway. It would be an expected and delightful detour taking them hundreds of miles and a few hours out of their way.

Root relished seeing Shaw so unguarded. She seized the opportunity to lean forward onto the console between them. It was the prefect height up and distance away from her. Inwardly, she groaned. This vehicle was one luxury they could have for a night but never a lifetime. There was no way their current salaries could afford it. Forcing herself back on track to making the most of the moment, Root folded herself over, placing her elbows on the console and resting her chin in her hands. The cocky grin and tilt of her head brought a smile to Shaw's lips. Her doe-like eyes were both demanding and pleading at the same time.

"What's on your mind, Confucius?" Shaw asked jokingly.

A sensual lilt to her voice, Root responded, "A great many things, some of which I'll save until later."

Shaw rolled her eyes but leaned closer, a small smirk playing on her face. "We're not guaranteed a _later_. Why don't you share now?"

Root loved this side of Shaw, the side only she was allowed to see. Yes, occasionally, the rest of the team got a glimpse, maybe even a moment or two, but the real Sameen was revealed in the quiet, private periods of time only they were able to share. Root watched as the light from behind her played off of Shaw's face. Their movements had allowed a little more glow from the lone streetlamp to shine into the vehicle.

Shaw, arms folding themselves onto her lap, found herself tilting more towards the middle of the vehicle and Root. Their lips were almost touching. Never breaking eye contact, she brought them so close. Each one felt the breath of the other playing on their own lips. It was a seduction, a carefully planned, unplanned action. Minutes or hours could pass, no words needed to be exchanged. Actions always spoke volumes more than words ever could when it came to the pair.

Words were a precious commodity. Like the rest of the human world, they used words to communicate, but there were so many other times that words would or could fail them. It was an easier interaction, a sense, an understanding, to just _be._ No pretenses. No masks. No hidden agendas. They could be real with each other. Verbal expressions with limitless vocabularies and lyrical prose were never needed for that and would never compare.

An errant stand of hair fell to the side of Shaw's face. Root found it endearing, something she treasured. It was Shaw, chaos and composure in one, the flaw that was never a flaw at all. It was her humanness quantified. Root took the opportunity to reach out her right hand to tuck the rogue hair back behind Shaw's ear, her fingers lingering a fraction longer than necessary. Silky and light, Root drew her finger around Shaw's ear and traced a path down her jaw to her chin. She watched as the other woman drew in a breath, how her eyes closed just a modest amount, how the pulse point in her neck betrayed her quickening heartbeat. Those little variations were hers and hers alone, except they also belonged to Root.

Too many people feel that words are cleansing, their saving grace. They each found salvation in touching each other. Literally and figuratively, they were able to touch, reach, affect the other in ways that no one else ever had … and ever would. It was an emancipation, a liberation, of their souls. It was just as much imprisonment as they were drawn together in a mysterious and inexorable way. They, as a pair, were destiny defined. It was inevitable. The only questions had been when and how hard would they fight it.

"Well," Root drawled for effect, "I can think—" She stopped herself when there was a minor, almost imperceptible twitch in Shaw's left eye.

"Yes, Harold." The questioning statement flowed effortlessly from Shaw's lips.

Root knew all too well what it was like to have a voice in your head. She lived daily with the constant hum of something, always waiting and wondering when will be the moment it will speak. Always the anticipation itching and scratching at the surface of every second. She had gotten used to it over time and eventually craved it. When it was gone, she felt empty. Now, she lived with the idea that it was there, always there, but she found there were times she ignored it to live in the present, tangible world. A world with Sameen Shaw and all of her splendor. She waited, anticipating what their next instructions would be.

"Okay…" Shaw squinted in disbelief. "So, they apprehended the guy on accident?" A smile. "A traffic stop, really?" Larger smile. "So, we're hanging out beside his apartment building for nothing?" Shaw put on an act of an air of annoyance for the man on the other end of the earpiece, but Root could see the truth all over her face. "Sure. So, we're done for the night. See you in the morning. I'm taking this thing out for a test drive. Maybe someday I'll get one of my own."

Root marveled at how Shaw could read her mind. Or maybe she had been reading Shaw's.

Shaw flicked her hand upward towards her ear and terminated the connection. Her lips, just a degree away from Root's, closed the distance quickly. A world of desire and promise washed over and enveloped them. They tilted their heads in unison and deepened the kiss. Tongues and lips and teeth all became an oath, a pledge, a guarantee. Not wanting to stop and risk breaking the spell but not wanting to stay where they were, they reluctantly parted enough to look at each other. Both smiling, wordlessly, they expressed their gratitude for the other and vow to make it work in a way only they could.

"You ready?" Shaw asked lightly, excitement breaking through.

"Absolutely," Root breathed in return. "Always."

"Where do you wanna go?" Shaw started the SUV and whipped the vehicle out onto the street. She pointed it towards the nearest interstate.

"Wherever you are," Root replied simply, her heart leading her words.

"You're in for a wild ride."

Both knew it was true on so many levels. It was the drive, their lives, their mission, their everything.

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End.


End file.
